FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

>Be Dwayne Cooper.

>You’ve had a topsy turvy night.

>On the plus side of things, you had a good night meeting up with old friends.

>On the downside, old enemies kept ruining your fun.

>Enemies is a strong word though.

>”Nuisances” would be a better term.

>You had fun dancing with one of your old friends.

>An old friend currently sleeping in your bed.

>An old friend that hasn’t been overly subtle in her attempts to get you to bed her, then wife her.

>All so tempting to be honest.

>You deserve to be happy.

>Right?

>Nevertheless.

>After you got home you had a talk with your grandfather, Alex Cooper

>Old WW2 vet.

>He’d seen some shit.

>He, and your mother, asked you a question you didn’t want to answer.

>How long had you been S.A.S?

>You shouldn’t tell them.

>Play dumb.

> “Around three years now.” You reply.

> “So you’re actually a private?” Alex asks with a raised curious brow.

> “No, I was able to retain my rank.” You reply.

>This gets a curious look on their faces.

>They ask why.

>You simply respond with a “Dunno.”

>A thought pops into your head and you look at your grandfather.

> “How’d you know I was S.A.S?” you ask.

>Alex and your mum share a knowing grin then look back at you.

> “Your dad had the same look in his eye.” Your mother says.

>Your world stops.

>What?

>You didn’t know dad was …

>You ask mother how she knew dad was S.A.S!

>She just laughs and retorts.

> “How do ya think I met him?!”

>They go on to explain how your mum met your dad, the real way.

>Your mum had worked as a liaison for the S.A.S during some international crisis.

>W! T! F?

>She goes on to tell you that she’d done this several times.

>That’s how she met dad.

>After a while they started dating.

>Then the rest was history.

>Your mind is blown.

>Your mum AND dad had work with special forces.

>Your dad was Special Forces.

>And here you are now carrying on his work.

>You smile a little at that thought.

>But then that brings up a question.

>How did your dad die?

>You ask them.

>Grandpa Alex looks to your mum.

>She tell you that hasn’t changed.

>He died in the line of duty.

>Doing good for the people.

>You feel proud.

>There’s a comfortable silence between the three of you.

>Broken only by the call of Trick or Treaters.

>You eventually go upstairs to your room.

>Allison still slumbers peacefully.

>She looks so beautiful.

>The white and brown of her fur.

>She looks so peaceful.

>So timid.

>So …

>You shake your head.

>Get that thought away before it even became one.

>You take off your Halloween costume.

>Redress in light trousers and a t-shirt.

>You decide it’s high time to go for a run!

>You head back down.

>Alex and mum still watching TV.

>Tea and light snacks on the coffee table.

>The Wolfman in on screen.

>Larry Talbot/Lon Chaney Jr. is beating a dog/werewolf with a silver cane.

>What a pimp.

>You stare at the screen a moment.

>Larry kills the beast and looks for American heart throb woman.

>Larry is hurt, bitten by the Werewolf.

>You wonder why Larry never turned into a wolf-werewolf like the one he killed.

>Because monsters!

>You turn away, opening the door.

> “TRICK OR TREAT!”

>Several kids yell.

>Your surprised.

>You recoil briefly before you calm.

>You laugh it off.

>Mother looks to you with a smile.

>You look at the kids, humans and anthros.

>A vampire.

>A werewolf.

>A fox with lots of tails?

>….. uhh

>You look at the last kid dressed in a long lack cloak and top hat.

>Jack the Ripper?

>The Undertaker?

>Nice hat.

>You grab the kids their sweets and put them in their bags.

> “Great costumes kids.” You laugh.

>You receive a chorus of “thank yous” before they depart.

> “I’m off for a run!” you call to them.

> “Be careful not to run into any monsters!” you mum laughs.

>You simply laugh before you leave.

>You start off with a jog.

>Just to get the blood pumping.

>Wake your muscles up.

>Soon however you speed up.

>Your jog turning into a comfortable work-out run.

>You run aimlessly.

>Going this way and that way.

>You run down backstreets.

>You run down high streets.

>You just run.

>You needed to run.

>Clear your head.

>Get away from people for a while.

>Work your muscles a little harder.

>You run faster.

>You find the privacy you want.

>You were drawn here.

>The seclusion of the woods.

>You just go for it.

>Your heart beats faster.

>Harder.

>You can almost hear it.

>Blood pumping through your veins faster.

>Your run through the woods unimpeded.

>You run through the trees.

>Dodge low branches.

>Avoid tripping over roots.

>There are groups in the woods.

>You hear them.

>See their small fires.

>Their parked cars and jeeps.

>You avoid them and keep running.

>After a time your limbs begin to burn to a point you need rest.

>You’ve ran a lot.

>But your mind is no clearer than when you began.

>You reach for your phone in your pocket to tell your mum where you are.

>Only to find it isn’t there.

>You left it at home.

>Bugger.

>You shake your head with frustration.

>After a moment you look around to find where you’ve brought yourself.

>You’re near the river.

>The river that goes around and through parts of the town.

>You and your friends used to swim in there during the summer.

>You’d tell each other horror stories about bodies being found in there.

>You all stopped briefly after a few bodies were found in there.

>Still swam in it though.

>You smile to yourself at the fond memories.

>Suddenly you sense a presence not far from you.

>You turn and spy a lone figure along the riverbank.

>An anthro of some kind judging by the silhouette.

>Or a human dressed as some anthro-type-monster.

>Whoever they are they’re sat upon a chair.

>You can hear a radio play quietly beside them.

>You’re about to move on when an older woman’s voice speaks up.

> “Dwayne Cooper?”

>How does she know you?

>You walk closer to her for answers.

>She seems familiar.

>A dark grey rat anthro.

>Short.

>Long black hair drapes over her shoulders.

>She’s wearing some sort of witch’s, gothic, kinda gypsy dress on.

>The rat anthro turns her head towards you as you come within a few feet of her.

> “Aye, thought it was you.”

>You recognise her now.

> Miss Malbec

>Teresa Lowery’s mother.

>You’d talked to Teresa and her husband, Dennis, back at the Halloween party.

> “Ya reyt?” you ask her.

> “Aye.” She replies simply with a nod, then nods to you with raised brows.

> “Aye.” You reply to her look.

> “How’d you know it was me?” you can’t help but ask.

>Miss Malbec reached into her dress and pulls out a phone.

>can’tbelieveshecanaffordone.

>She opens the phone, taps a few things slowly with her right index finger then turns the phone towards you.

>Leaning closer you see a picture of you, Allison, Dennis and Teresa all dress up and smiling.

>It’s on Facebook.

> “Got a couple'a pictures of ya’ll.” She replies as softly as her voice can manage.

>She pulls the phone away, reaches down and lifts a cigarette to her mouth.

>She takes a few puffs then leaves the cig between her lips.

> “You’ve got good eye sight then.” You comment on how she could see you in the dark.

>She just shrugs.

> “Which is ever dwindlin’” she mutters around her cig.

> “Our Dennis says you’re a soldier now.” She speaks up, pulling the cig from her mouth.

>She turns to look at you from the corner of her eye.

> “Aye, ten years now.” You reply then look about.

> “What’re you doin’ round ‘ere?” you ask.

> “I come ‘ere to relax. It’s peaceful.” She sighs softly

>You look to the river, the light of the moon reflected in the water.

>For once there’s an almost clear sky above. A few clouds here and there.

>You can barely hear the party-goers off in the distance.

>You hear the soft movements of the water.

>She’s right this is peaceful.

>You sit down beside her and simply look to the sky.

>The waning gibbous glows so brightly in the night.

>Casting it’s light down upon you all.

>You hear a text being sent beside you.

>You look over as see Miss Malbec put down her phone.

> “Just texting yer mum, lettin’ her know where ya are.” She explains.

>You blink.

> “You have my mum on yer contacts?” you ask with surprise.

> “Aye, you’d be surprised who I know. Who I consider a friend.” She replies and leans back in her folding chair.

>You never really considered that.

> “You were always nice to Teresa back in school.” She speaks up once more regaining your attention.

> “I wouldn’t say I was nice.” You reply sheepishly and scratch the back of your head.

> “You weren’t a twat to her like most, that’s “nice” to me.” She counters.

>Teresa had a rough childhood from what you had gathered over the years.

>Father left.

>They were poor.

>Could barely afford school uniform and supplies.

>She got bullied at school a lot for her appearance and “social status”.

>You never bullied her.

>You also didn’t go out of your way to defend her.

>You had put your foot down when it got really bad though.

> “I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” You offer solemnly.

> “You did enough. The teachers were barely any fuckin’ help.” She snarls and takes a long drag of her cig before putting the butt away.

>She pulls out another cigarette and lights up.

> “Did things get better when she and Dennis …?” you left the question open.

>The older rat nodded.

> “Aye things did. They got together well, went out well. He was a nice lad, treated her well, and she treated him well.” She smiles then snorts a few seconds later.

> “She treated him real well.” She laughs with her tail whipping back and forth against the ground.

>You get where she’s going, you laugh too.

>Afterwards, you both sit in comforting silence.

>A smile adorns your face.

>You look over to Miss Malbec, once more noting her dress.

> “Been meaning to ask …” you begin

>But she cuts you off.

> “It’s not a Halloween costume.” She states simply.

>Smile still on her face

>She tilts her head towards you and looks at you once more.

> “It’s a traditional dress.” She adds.

>As if that helps any.

>You’re quite for a moment as you ponder her words.

> “Is it … gothic?” you dare to ask.

>You changed your last word at the last minute.

>Didn’t want to be rude.

>Miss Malbec picks up on your brief pause.

>The rat grins, revealing her teeth, and chuckles.

> “Why don’t you say what you want to say Dwayne?” her grin broadens.

> “Is it …uh …..” you can’t say it.

>Thankfully she takes pity on you and answers.

> “Aye, it’s a gypsy dress. Not one a-them new fangled pain in the arses that call themselves gypsies.”

>With a look of disgust she snarls, but only for a moment.

>She shakes her head.

> “Proper, traditional gypsy dress from old days.”

>You didn’t know she and Terri were actual gypsies.

>You thought they were just, unfortunate.

>You say as such to her.

>In as a polite way as you can.

> “No, no. Not all of us are poor. As you say, me an’ Terri just got unlucky.”

>You noticed her hands clench into fists.

> “That’d be her dad’s fault.” She snarls.

>From what you know, Terri’s dad left after he knocked up Miss Malbec.

> “You ever put a curse on him?” your idiot mouth immediately says.

>Ohfuckmei’manidiot.jpg!

> Miss Malbec just laughs.

> “Aye I did.” She laughs onwards.

>You just smile.

>She stops then looks at you, smile still on her face.

> “Are you a believer Dwayne?” she asks.

>You raise a brow.

> “In what, magic?” you ask with a chuckle.

> “Call it what you want lad.” She shrugs but waits.

>You’re more of a God-fearing boy.

>But well …

> “I could be persuaded.” You simply reply.

>She stares at you.

>Smile lingering.

>She looks you from head to toe then back again.

>She’s not checking you out.

>At least you don’t think so.

> “I suppose when a man goes to war his perspective on life changes, aye?”

>She says carefully.

> “You could say that.”

>Now your fists clench involuntarily.

>You already know you’re going to Hell when you die.

> “Could say that.” You whisper once more.

>She nods her head.

>Does she understand?

>Does she know?

>Does she know?

>She grins at you once more.

>She’s a smiley rat. You note.

> “If you carry me chair for us, I’ll treat ya to some good ol’ fashion gypsy treatments.”

>She offers.

> “Like what?” You lean back, eyeing her cautiously.

> “Ye’ can fuck me arse.” She says seriously.

>She immediately laughs at the look on your face.

> “I’m kiddin’! I’m kiddin’!” she laughs louder.

>Almost falls out of her chair.

>Your heart is hammering in your chest.

>You should’ve seen that coming a MILE away!

> “I’m kiddin’, oh dear.” Her laughter dies down.

>She wipes the tears from her eyes.

>She tries to steady her breathing.

>You finally laugh too.

>You walked right into that one like an idiot.

>Finally she calms down enough to talk.

> “Sorry, but no, seriously now. Some palm readin’, some tarot cards.”

> “Maybe a look into yer crystal ball?” you say, imitating a stereotypical gypsy crone, your hands positioned as if you were holding a ball beside your head.

>Miss Malbec gives you the finger in reply.

> “I’ll shove me crystal ball up yer arse.” She chuckles.

> “Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” You reply.

>She shrugs.

> “So how much will it cost? I don’t have any money” You ask.

>She looks at you with mild, overdramatic shock.

> “Cost? Dwayne me lad. I feel insulted!” She places the back of her left hand to her forehead and another clutched her chest.

>What a performance.

> “I like to consider our time together now as friends. I don’t charge me friends for this kinda thing.”

>She lowers her hands and looks you straight in the eye.

> “Just the soul of yer first child!” she says in a haunting voice.

>Then proceeds to bellow out an evil Hollywood career making laugh.

> “I’ll buy ya a drink or two at pub.” You offer as she continues to laugh.

>She immediately stops and gets out of her chair.

> “Aye that’ll do.”

> “Why not I guess.” You say as you stand.

> “It’s Halloween Dwayne, you got to have some fun. Enjoy something different, right?” she says as she folds up her chair.

>You reach out and pick it up for her.

>With her standing she’s maybe a little taller than Terri.

>She’s possibly around 5’3” at a glance?

>She picks up her radio and turns up the volume a little.

[Blue Moooooon! You saw me standing aaloooooooone!!”]

>You used to like this song.

> “Without a dream in my heeaaart. Without a love of my ooooowwwn.”

>Ms Malbec sings along as she leads the way.

>You remain quiet and follow her, keeping pace due to her shorter legs

>After a few minutes of walking the song finishes

>She speaks up.

> “We believed in many things Dwayne.” She says suddenly.

> “Gods, devils, spirits. Call them whatever you want.” She takes a long drag of her cigarette.

> “We asked for protection against evil while living a simple and peaceful life.”

>She looks at you with a smirk.

> “Even make a bob or two from local towns and such.”

> “We had our persecutions, sure. Like Cher said, “Gypsies, tramps and thieves.” We got all sorts of names called at us. But people still came to see us for one thing or another.”

>She finishes her cig and throws the butt away, then grabs another one.

> “Or so me mother and grandmother told me.” She lights up and takes a puff.

> “But our beliefs is what kept us strong, kept us together. Believin’ in the ol’ ways.” She goes on to explain.

> “The spirits would protect us.”

{I see, the bad moon arising, I see trouble on the way.]

> “Not directly, and not obviously, you see? I don’t get why, but they didn’t.”

{I see Earthquakes and Lightnin’, I see bad times todays!}

> “They’d give us hints, nudges in the right direction if we were lookin in the right place, aye?”

{Don’t go around tonight! It’s bound to take your life”

>Ms Malbec looks at you and smiles.

> “Some of us could figure it out, but some of us were a bit dense.”

> “Oh aye?” you ask.

> “So me great grandma said to me grandma said to me.”

{There’s a bad moon on the rise.]

> “Some don’t even think they bother now.” She says with a shrug.

> “Maybe there’s not enough real belief in ‘em? They say.” She adds.

> “They say God works in mysterious ways, right?” you reply.

> “I guess, they just want us all to figure things out for ourselves.” You shrug.

> “Exactly Dwayne, exactly.”

{Don’t go around tonight. It’s bound to take your life.}

> “I believe the signs are there. If you look hard enough.” She grins.

{There’s a bad moon on the rise!}

>Ms Malbec turns down the volume of her radio then points ahead.

> “Here we are, home sweet home.”

>Just outside of the woods is an encampment.

>A few gypsy families live here.

>They don’t travel really.

>They live here.

>It’s their home.

>The pair of you enter the encampment.

>There are caravans.

>Wooden buildings.

>They’re well-constructed. No doubt.

>There’s even a large campfire going in the centre.

>Halloween decorations are ornaments about.

>Carved pumpkins with scary faces illuminated by candles.

> “I didn’t think you’d celebrate Halloween.” You comment.

> “Why not?” Miss Malbec laughs.

> “The scariest night of the year? Witches and monsters and the like? Why wouldn’t we celebrate?” she laughs.

> “Also some of us sell a lot of our sold goods during this time.” She adds.

>Suddenly an old raspy male voice calls out.

> “Y’ find y’self a young lad ‘ere Pat?”

>You look over and see a skinny, bare-chested, grey furred rat looking over at you from a beaten-up old couch chair.

> “Fuck off Matt, he’s a friend a’ Terri’s!” Ms Malbec/Pat shouts back.

> “And he’s too young fer me!” She quickly adds then looks you over.

>You hear her mutter “then again”.

> “Oh, aye. A good lad then he is aye?” The old rat shouts back.

> “Aye.” She shouts back.

> “Aye.” He says before turning to watch his television.

>You take a glance at it.

>A four-legged wolf beast is slowly approaching a male anthro deer in a suit.

>The scene cuts away as the beast roars and the man screams.

>Miss Malbec, or rather Pat leads you through the encampment.

>Past all forms of festivities.

>There are still some kids in costumes.

>You smell food being cooked.

>Something meaty.

>Smells good.

>Smells really good.

>Older women and old men tell kids scary stories.

>There’s an older raven woman entertaining kids with gypsy hocus-pocus stuff.

>Fun seems to be had.

>The whole thing seems very homely.

> “Here we are.” Pat says catching your attention.

>You look up to find she’s brought you to a traditional looking wooden caravan.

>It looks old. Very old. But incredibly well made.

> “This be where the fun and games happen.” Pat says as you both climb the steps to enter.

>You both pause. You’re not alone.

>On the couch are some teens snogging.

>A rabbit and a squirrel.

> “Oi you two, this ain’t the place fer that!” Pat snaps, loudly.

>The teens jump in surprise, shout out a curse at her then make a break for it.

>You watch them run into the encampment.

> “Some kids have no respect for the old ways.” Pat mutters loud enough for you to hear.

>You turn around and take a look at the place.

>It’s actually rather roomy.

>Well decorated too.

>Unknown symbols and shapes hand-made from wood hang from the ceiling.

>Strange items and various herbs sit on shelves on either side.

> “Terri wasn’t really one for the old ways.” Pat says as she makes her way to the opposite end.

>She grabs various items from different locations as she goes.

> “I can’t blame her like, she got enough bother from school.” Pat adds a twinge of regret in her words.

> “She was never going to be normal, not with how we live.”

> “I’m just glad she had friends like you Dwayne.” Pat says and looks to you.

>You look back at her and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

> “Again, I wasn’t that much of a friend to her.” You reply, your own regret in your voice.

> “Maybe, but you were never rude to her, never cruel. She says you even helped her out a few times.” Pat shot back with a tired smile.

>You did?

>Well maybe you guessed.

>Just small acts.

>But you suppose even small acts of kindness stand out to those less fortunate.

>You feel bad not sticking up for her more back then.

> “Her getting together with Dennis was a blessing!” Pat says with a smile and a starry-eyed expression.

>Pat reaches the end and turns. She sits on the far couch and pulls a small table up to her.

>You notice her watching you as you look about.

> “Does it scare you in here Dwayne?” she chuckles darkly.

>There is some freaky shit in here you must admit.

>Things of the macabre.

>Strange Pagan things.

>There is one thing that takes note though.

>Sitting above Pat.

>Nestled in place on hooks.

>A blend of wood and metal.

>You can’t help but ask about it.

> “Do you have a license for that firearm?”

>You look down to Pat.

>She’s staring at you wide eyed.

>She turns and looks up at the gun.

>It’s an old single barrel .410 shotgun.

>Likely used for vermin.

> “Uuuuuuuuhhh,” Pat groans out as she tries to think of an excuse.

> “It’s … a prop?” She looks uncertain, her lie obvious.

>She grins wide trying to look innocent.

>Kinda cute.

>DamnitDwaynedonotfucktheratgypsywitch!

>You aren’t a grass, sooooo.

> “A prop, yeah makes sense.” You smirk back and give a wink.

>Pat sighs with relief then relaxes.

> “Good on ye lad.”

>She places the few various items on the table.

>Only now do you take a good look at them.

>A pack of cards.

>A dark candle.

>A box of matches.

>A large silver necklace and pendant.

>The pendant is in the shape of the moon.

>Two gems sit inside it.

>One dark.

>One light.

> “So … what do we do?” you ask.

>You nods to a chair beside you.

> “Sit down Dwayne, and we’ll begin.” She says in a serious tone.

>You take the chair and sit down opposite her.

>Pat grabs the matches, opening them then moves the candle to the centre of the table.

> “This is to dispel any dark spirits that may come here.” She informs you.

>She strikes the match, causing it to light then moves it to the candle.

>The candle’s wick catches flame.

>Then immediately peters out.

>Pat grunts then strikes another match.

>It lights once more and she puts it to the candles wick.

>The wick catches fire.

>And again it peters out.

>With a grimace she reaches into her dress and pulls out her lighter.

>She pulls the candle closer to her then lights the wick with her lighter.

>The flame peters briefly but it remains.

> “Hmm. Must be a breeze somewhere.” She mutters and looks about.

>She focuses on you.

> “Can you see alright?” she asks.

>You nod. You see just fine.

>Pat grabs her tarot cards and starts to shuffle them.

>Turning them around.

>More shuffling.

>She expertly spreads the cards out in her hands.

>She looks you in the eye.

> “What type of reading shall we do?” she asks.

> “Whatever you think is best.” You reply.

> “Then let us see you in general shall we and your life as it is.” She replies.

>She shows you the cards.

> “Pick seven cards lad.”

>You look from her eyes to the cards in her hands and grab seven cards at random.

>This is kind of fun.

>You’ve never had a tarot reading before.

>Not sure if you totally believe in the thing.

>But Pat’s really putting effort into it so you can’t help but be charmed.

>Pat puts her remaining cards to the side before asking you to put the cards down in any order, any way in a pattern of three, three then two.

> “I’ll be doing a reading from your point of view.” She informed you.

>You didn’t get it. You inform her of this.

> “Tarot cards have different meanings if they are right side up or up side down.”

>You want to ask more questions.

>But best to let her do her thing.

>You place your cards down, turning only some.

>Pat turns over the first card and your eyes lock onto it.

>A familiar hooded figure with a scythe.

>You glare at it.

> “Death does not actually mean death Dwayne.” Pat chuckles.

> “It simply means the end of how things were. Change. Metamorphosis.”

>You say nothing.

>She turns over the next card.

>A hand from the top of the card is reaching down for the sun.

> “Reversed sun. Negative emotions. You’re upset about something.” You hear Pat say.

>She turns the next card.

> “Reverse eight of swords. Self-acceptance, new perspectives, freedom.”

>She pauses as she looks at the previous cards, a brow raised, her tail raised behind her.

>She continues.

>”Reverse two of swords? No right choice, a lesser of two evils.” She mutters quietly.

>You hear her fine.

>You look back down as Pat turns the next card.

>An upside-down demon stares back at you.

>You look at it then to pat for an explanation.

> “Reversed devil means freedom, release, or regaining control.”

>Your jaw sets tighter.

>She flips the next two cards together.

> “The hierophant and the reverse wheel of fortune.”

>She mutters about traditions and lack of control.

>She looks over the cards puzzled.

> “Have I made things awkward?” you hesitate in asking.

>She looks over the cards a little while longer before answering.

> “No lad … just an interesting set, the cards as a set can mean something different than they did individually.”

>She places her hand on the Reverse-Devil card and the Reverse Two-of Swords , she stares at the cards.

> “You said you’re a soldier? Just like your dad was, like your grandfather and his father. Following in the family tradition” she says but doesn’t wait for a reply.

> “A lack of control, negative feelings. Self-acceptance.” She mutters.

> “Quite a few swords.”

> “A few creatures.”

> “What do the cards say Pat?” you ask.

>You didn’t mean to sound so cold.

>She looks at the cards then up at you with eyes full of worry.

> “What happened to you Dwayne?” she asks with concern. “What did you see?”

>You lower your gaze to the cards.

>You notice Pat move; she takes hold of the candle by it’s handle and moves it closer to you.

>The flame goes out.

>She gasps.

> “Bloody breeze, right?” you ask.

>The candle is relit and placed beside her.

>She looks at the candle for a moment longer.

>Her gaze shifts to where it went out.

>She’s trying to not look at you.

> “Aye, I should close the windows. Last thing I need is me catchin’ a cold.” She replies.

>She almost sounded confidant in her own words.

> “You accept whatever you saw, whatever it was, it was horrible, whatever happened to you. But it took time.” She shook her head.

> “You’ve been through hell Dwayne, I dunno know what, but you’ve been through fire.”

> “Makes sense if you’re a soldier I suppose.” She sighs and gives you a sad look.

> “Whatever it were, ye’ have me sympathies.”

>You glare at the cards.

>You feel your hands clench

>She seems to notice your expression.

> “I’m sorry Dwayne. I didn’t mean t’ overstep and upset ye’.”

>She looks at the cards one last time then bundles them back into the deck.

>She uses the mythical candle to light normal ones.

>She places them around the table.

> “I didn’t really expect anything from it.” You admit sheepishly.

> “Many don’t, they’re usually surprise.” She gives you a small smirk

>She blows out the mythical candle.

> “So what’s the necklace ye’ got here?” you ask.

>She looks down and smiles.

>Her confidence seemingly restored.

> “Pretty, ain’t it? It’s said the stones harness the moon’s rays and keep its wearer protected at night, and silver chain is blessed to keep it out‘a t’ hands of evil. I want ye’ t’ have it.”

>You frown and shake your head.

>You appreciate the gesture, but it looks far too expensive.

> “I can’t take it from ye’, it’s gorgeous but and it’s too valuable.”

>Pat shakes her head then looks at it forlornly.

> “This is just a replica, the metal ain’t even real silver, it’s just painted, and the gems are fake.”

>She reluctantly admits.

> “I can’t be affordin’ actual silver and pricey gems.”

>Pat smiled as you reached out for it and she placed it into your hand.

>It’s got some weight to it if nothing else.

>It’s then you realise what she said.

> “Wait, did you make this?” you ask astonished.

>She tilts her hand side to side.

> “Eh, kind of, I buy cheap necklaces and stones and I just craft em together with cheap metals then spray paint it.” She admits, unashamed. She shrugs.

>It’s still very clever though.

>She smiles at you after you say so.

> “Anyway, I like to think it’s t’ thought that counts, if not then please take it as a gift.”

>You nod your head and accept her gift.

> “It’s nice, thank you Miss Malbec.” You say sincerely

>For a little while the pair of you just talk.

>Work. Family. Futures.

>She seems to remember something.

> “Oh Dwayne! We’re puttin’ together a large bonfire ceremony for Guy Fawkes night, ye be comin’?” she asks excitedly.

>Remember, remember the 5th of November.

> “There’ll be food, music, a couple of us will be there selling trinkets and telling fortunes.”

>It sounds fun.

> “Aye, I’ll come. Can I bring some friends?” you ask.

> “Of course! More the merrier really. They’ll be a tiny charge mind.” She shrugged.

> “Doin this kinda stuff ain’t cheap.” She adds.

>That’s fair.

> “No worries. I’ll buy tickets.” You say then have a thought.

> “Actually, you need any donations of anythin’ t’ help?”

>She gives you’re a curious look.

>Likely not expecting the question.

>Her brow creases together as she thinks it over.

> “Well aye, any help’s good. We’d appreciated it, you’d ‘ave t’ talk t’ Agatha though.”

>You have no idea who that is.

> “No worries, I’ll show ye!” She grins large showing off her teeth.

>Pat stands up, moving the table aside.

>You stand automatically and move your chair.

>You both exit the wagon and re-enter the encampment.

>Pat leads you to a large blue static caravan.

>Just outside it, is a raven lady wearing a long dress like Pat’s.

>It’s the same Raven lady you saw from before.

>Up close she’s about as tall as you.

>Making her around 5’10/11”.

>Pat gets her attention and quickly introduces the pair of you to each other before bringing her up to speed on the situation.

>Agatha seems delighted at the idea.

> “Oh wonderful! Did you want to contribute cash?” she grins wide.

>You tell her no, you don’t have money on you.

>Preferably a bank transfer if that’s something she does.

>If not you can grab the money later.

>She nods her consent in return.

>You two work out what to do.

>You have given her your number.

>She’ll text you to give you her number.

>You’ll call her for the bank transfer afterwards.

>She just seems excited to be getting some help financially with it.

>She explains while it’s fun and something for the community.

>Organising the event is damn expensive and they don’t make a lot of money.

>Especially poor Pat Malbec.

>Normally you don’t trust people you just met with money.

>But you trust Pat.

>And failing that there’s always plan B.

> “Thank you so much Mr Cooper. We highly appreciate it.”

>She sticks her hand out and you jovially take her hand to shake it.

>She recoils her hand back suddenly startling you and Pat.

>The raven looks between you both, eyes wide with alarm.

> “Ah sorry.” She quickly apologises. “Cramp.”

>She rubs her hand for emphasis.

>You nod your sympathies.

>Both you and Pat make a show of wincing.

> “I hate that.” Pat speaks up.

> “Hey, I’d best be off.” You say to Pat.

>She nodded in understanding.

> “You need a lift? We may have one sober adult who can drive.” She looked about the place

>You feel stupid asking.

>You should run back home.

> “Um, aye. If you don’t mind.” You scratch the back on your neck awkwardly.

>Pat just laughs.

> “Come on then, I’ll get ye’ home.”

>You look to Agatha.

> “It was nice meetin’ you Agatha.” You give her your friendliest smile.

>She smiles and gives you a small wave.

> “You too Dwayne, you too.”

>With that you follow Pat to her car.

---

>Be Patricia Malbec.

>You’re a 51 years old, 5’3” Rat anthro.

>You’re also a woman of mysticism and witchcraft!

>Or so you tell people.

>Despite the nay sayers and non-believers, you truly believe in spirits and deities.

>You believe a real witch can truly call upon the forces around them to see things that were beyond mortal senses.

>There was something however about the passenger you had in your car right now.

>Dwayne Cooper.

>He was a nice boy. Had a strength to him.

>If only you were 20 years younger.

>Or he had a thing for older women.

>His tarot card reading had given you pause.

>His cards told a story. You were sure of this.

>You felt your translation was correct … partially.

>There was something to this boy.

>A darkness had seeped itself into him.

>You’d seen it in the cards.

>But then, he was a soldier.

>Terrible things happen in wars.

>Unpredictable things.

>Perhaps there was an event he regretted?

>Or he saw something truly terrible.

>You’ve seen Saving Private Ryan, you can understand how bad things can be.

>Poor lad.

>You glance his way, seeing him staring at the window to the world outside.

>You focus back on the road, paying only a small attention to the trick or treaters going about their ways.

>Eventually you park your old and semi-reliable car outside his mother’s house.

>He turns and smiles at you, thanking you for the lift.

>You tell him it’s no trouble at all.

>He says he’ll repay you for it.

>You tell him again, it’s no trouble at all, with more emphasis.

>You says he will before exiting the car and gently closes the door.

>You chuckle and shake your head.

>Good boy. Nice and polite.

>His mother should be proud.

>You hope the spirits will protect him in his journeys.

>You make your way back home.

>Once you’re parked up and out of your car you head back to the encampment.

>Time for you to relax and watch some TV before you head out.

>Dennis is treating his parents, Terri, you, and the kids to some food.

>You’re looking forward to it!

>Sure, his parents think you’re a little weird.

>But then, most people think you and your entourage are weird.

>As you enter the encampment Agatha saunters towards you.

>You notice her old little handbag dangling from her shoulder.

> “Pat, who was that young man from earlier?”

>You raise a furred brow at the raven.

>You introduced them to one another already.

> “I told ye lass, he’s Dwayne Cooper. June Cooper’s lad.”

>Agatha clutches her hand.

> “Has your cramp gone yet?” you ask.

>She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

> “What was he doing here?” she asks, her tone dripping with condescendence.

> “Hey! Don’t be givin’ me tha’ tone!” you snarl briefly.

> “He weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. Lad went fer a run, ended up by me. As a nice thing I gave him a tarot card readin’ free-a-charge.”

>You glare at her and cross your arms.

> “Why, what’s wrong? You seemed happy enough to be takin’ his money later.”

>She adopts a look of interest.

> “Do you remember his cards?”

>You pause.

>You suddenly don’t like the fact she’s asking.

>You want to lie and say no. But something is up.

> “Aye. Why?”

>The old Raven, whose only a little only than you, asks you to show her.

>You lead her to the old wagon, lead her to the tarot deck, this cards were placed on top.

>You put them back out in the same order they were drawn.

>Agatha looks them over then at you.

> “Only seven cards?” she asks.

>You roll your eyes.

> “I asked him to pick up to 10.”

>You don’t like Agatha’s tone.

>You don’t like her sudden interest.

>You watch her silently as she examines the cards.

> “What reading did you get from them?” she asked.

>She seemed to ask only as an afterthought.

>Was she judging your reading?

> “He’s a soldier lass, somethin’ happened t’ him out there. Something traumatic, but he’s learned t’ live with it.”

>She doesn’t say anything.

>You lose your patients.

> “What the bloody hell is your problem Agatha?!” Your voice almost stung your own sensitive ears.

>If she cared for your tone she doesn’t show it.

>Instead she looks towards you, face totally unreadable.

>She’s looking at you but not seeing you, seeing past you.

>You hate that.

> “There’s just something I must know.”

>She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a small deck of cards.

>You know those cards.